OF
THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE THREE
BROTHERS AFTER THE VISIT OF
SOUTHWEST WIND, ESQUIRE;
AND HOW LITTLE GLUCK
HAD AN INTERVIEW
WITH THE KING OF
THE GOLDEN RIVER.

OUTHWEST Wind,
Esquire, was as good as his word. After the momentous visit above
related,
he entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, what was worse, influence
with
his relations, the West Winds in general, and used it so effectually,
that
they all adopted a similar line of conduct. So no rain fell in the
valley
from one year's end to another. Though everything remained green and
flourishing
in the plains below, the inheritance of thc Three Brothers was a
desert.
What had once been the richest soil in the kingdom, became a shifting
heap
of red sand; and the brothers, unable longer to contend with thc
adverse
skies, abandoned their valueless patrimony in despair, to seek some
means
of gaining a livelihood among the cities and people of the plains. All
their
money was gone, and they had nothing left but some curious,
old-fashioned
pieces of gold plate, the last remnants of their ill-gotten wealth.

"Suppose we turn goldsmiths?" said Schwartz to Hans, as they
entered the large city. "It is a good knave's trade; we can put a great
deal
of copper into the gold, without any one's finding it out."

The thought was agreed to be a Very good one; they
hired
a furnace, and turned goldsmiths. But two slight circumstances affected
their
trade: the first, that people did not approve of the coppered gold; the
second,
that the two elder brothers, whenever they had sold anything, used to
leave
little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go and drink out the money in the
ale-house
next door. So they melted all their gold, without making money enough
to
buy more, and were at last reduced to one large drinking-mug, which an
uncle
of his had given to little Gluck, and which he was very fond of, and
would
not have parted with for the world; though he never drank anything out
of
it but milk and water. The mug was a very odd mug to look at. The
handle
was formed of two wreaths of flowing golden hair, so finely spun that
it
looked more like silk than metal, and these wreaths descended into, and
mixed
with, a beard and whiskers of the same exquisite workmanship, which
surrounded
and decorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold
imaginable,
right in the front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it which seemed
to
command its whole circumference. It was impossible to drink out of the
mug
without being subjected to an intense gaze out of the side of these
eyes;
and Schwartz positively averred, that once, after emptying it, full of
Rhenish,
seventeen times, he had seen them wink! When it came to the mug's turn
to
be made into spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck's heart: but the
brothers
only laughed at him, tossed the mug into the melting-pot, and staggered
out
to the ale-house: leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold into bars,
when
it was all ready.

When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at
his
old friend in the melting-pot. The flowing hair was all gone; nothing
remained
but the red nose, and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious
than
ever. "And no wonder," thought Gluck, "after being treated ill that
way."
He sauntered disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down to
catch
the fresh evening air, and escape the hot breath of the furnace. Now
this
window commanded a direct view of the range of mountains, which, as I
told
you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially of the
peak
from which fell the Golden River. It was just at the close of the day,
and
when Gluck sat down at the window he saw the rocks of the mountain
tops,
all crimson and purple with the sunset; and there were bright tongues
of
fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and the river, brighter
than
all, fell, in a waving column of pure gold, from precipice to
precipice,
with the double arch of a broad purple rainbow stretched across it,
flushing
and fading alternately in the wreaths of spray.

"Ah!" said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it
for
a while, "if that river were really all gold, what a nice thing it
would
be."

"No it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic
voice,
close at his ear.

"Bless me! what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping
up.
There was nobody there. He looked round the room, and under the table,
and
a great many times behind him, but there was certainly nobody there,
and
he sat down again at the window. This time he didn't speak, but he
couldn't
help thinking again that it would be very convenient if the river were
really
all gold.

"Not at all, my boy," said the same voice, louder
than
before.

"Bless me!" said Gluck again; "what is that?" He
looked
again into all the corners and cupboards, and then began turning round,
and
round, as fast as he could in the middle of the room, thinking there
was
somebody behind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. It
was
singing now very merrily, "Lala-lira-la"; no words, only a soft
running,
effervescent melody, something like that of a kettle on the boil. Gluck
looked
out of the window. No, it was certainly in the house Upstairs, and
downstairs.
No, it was certainly in that very room, coming in quicker time, and
clearer
notes, every moment. "Lala-lira-la." All at once it struck Gluck that
it
sounded louder near the furnace. He ran to the opening, and looked in:
yes,
he saw right; it seemed to be coming, not only out of the furnace, but
out
of the pot. He uncovered it, and ran back in a great fright, for the
pot
was certainly singing! He stood in the farthest corner of the room,
with
his hands up, and his mouth open, for a minute or two, when the singing
stopped,
and the voice became clear and pronunciative.

"Hollo!" said the voice. Gluck made no answer.

"Hollo! Gluck, my boy," said the pot again. Gluck
summoned
all his energies, walked straight up to the crucible, drew it out of
the
furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and its surface as
smooth
and polished as a river; but instead of reflecting little Gluck's head,
as
he looked in, he saw meeting his glance from beneath the gold the red
nose
and sharp eyes of his old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder
and
sharper than ever he had seen them in his life.

"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the
pot
again, "I'm all right; pour me out."

But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything
of the
kind.

"Pour me out, I say," said the voice rather
gruffly.

Still Gluck couldn't move.

"Will you pour me out?" said the voice
passionately.
"I'm too hot."

By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of
his limbs,
took hold of the crucible, and sloped it so as to pour out the gold.
But
instead of a liquid stream, there came out, first, a pair of pretty
little
yellow legs, then some coat-tails, then a pair of arms stuck akimbo,
and,
finally, the well-known head of his friend the mug; all which articles,
uniting
as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in the shape
of
a little golden dwarf, about a foot and a half high.

"That's
right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs, and then his
arms,
and then shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it would go,
for
five minutes, without stopping; apparently with the view of
ascertaining
if he were quite correctly put together, while Gluck stood
contemplating
him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in a slashed doublet of
spun
gold, so fine in its texture, that the prismatic colors gleamed over
it,
as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and, over this brilliant
doublet,
his hair and beard fell full halfway to the ground, in waving curls, so
exquisitely delicate that Gluck could hardly tell where they ended;
they
seemed to melt into air. The features of the face, however, were by no
means
finished with the same delicacy; they were rather coarse, slightly
inclining
to coppery in complexion, and indicative, in expression, of a very
pertinacious
and intractable disposition in their small proprietor. When the dwarf
had
finished his self-examination, he turned his small sharp eyes full on
Gluck,
and stared at him deliberately for a minute or two. "No, it wouldn't,
Gluck,
my boy," said the little man.

This was certainly rather an abrupt and
unconnected mode
of commencing conversation. It might indeed be supposed to refer to the
course
of Gluck's thoughts, which had first produced the dwarf's observations
out
of the pot; but whatever it referred to, Gluck bad no inclination to
dispute
the dictum.

"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very mildly and
submissively
indeed.

"No," said the dwarf, conclusively. "No, it
wouldn't."
And with that, the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his brows, and took
two
turns, of three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs up
very
high, and setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck
to
collect his thoughts a little, and, seeing no great reason to view his
diminutive
visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his amazement,
he
ventured on a question of peculiar delicacy.

"Pray, sir," said Gluck, rather hesitatingly,
"were you
my mug?"

On which the little man turned sharp round, walked
straight
up to Gluck, and drew himself up to his full height. "I," said the
little
man, "am the King of the Golden River." Whereupon he turned about
again,
and took two more turns, some six feet long, in order to allow time for
the
consternation which this announcement produced in his auditor to
evaporate.
After which, he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as if
expecting
some comment on his communication.

Gluck determined to say something at all events.
"I hope
your Majesty is very well," said Gluck.

"Listen!" said the little man, deigning no reply to this
polite inquiry.
"I am the King of what you mortals call the Golden River. The shape you
saw
me in was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whose
enchantments
you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you, and your
conduct
to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serve you; therefore,
attend
to what I tell you.

Whoever shall climb to the top of that mountain
from
which you see the Golden River issue, and shall cast into the stream at
its
source three drops of holy water, for him, and for him only, the river
shall
turn to gold. But no one failing in his first, can succeed in a second
attempt;
and if any one shall cast unholy water into the river, it will
overwhelm
him, and he will become a black stone." So saying, the King of the
Golden
River turned away and deliberately walked into the centre of the
hottest
flame of the furnace. His figure became red, white, transparent,
dazzling, – a
blaze of intense light, – rose, trembled, and disappeared. The
King of
the
Golden River had evaporated.